A Modern Fairytale
by spacebongo
Summary: Edward is the orphan with a dark past adopted by the Cullens, and Bella is the adopted sister who loves and hates him in equal measure. Think of 'Annie' or 'Cinderella' in reverse but with pseudo-incest and a drug addiction.
1. Prologue Esme's Beautiful Boy

_Author's Note: This is a modern fairytale told in an old style of language. The story won't necessarily be told in chronological order but I will label each part to avoid confusion. _

**_Prologue - Esme's Beautiful Boy_**

Edward was not beautiful in the way of the other children I saw that fine summer's day in the orphanage ten years ago. He was neither apple-cheeked nor smiley and his brown eyes scowled at us when we walked past him in the line-up. Head and shoulders above the rest of the children, he looked to be at least five years older than the others (some of whom were still wrapped in blankets and wearing diapers) and a troublemaker if the scrapes and bruises on his knees were any indication.

But there was something about him, something beautiful in the determined set of his jaw and the purple shadows underneath his haunted eyes, and I knew. I knew that he would make our daughter the best big brother that she could ever hope for.

"I want him," I whispered to Carlisle as we were led into a separate holding room to discuss the possible futures of the children as if they were pretty things to be bought or sold at auction. "The tall boy with the haunted eyes; he looks so sad."

"All of the children looked sad Esme," Carlisle replied as he gently took my hand into his. "We can't adopt them all."

"But we could adopt him," I insisted, turning to the nun who had accompanied us. She was small and fierce looking and had glared at the children as though they were no more than cattle, smacking their hands and bottoms with the edge of a ruler when she thought we weren't looking. Sister Agnes. I had hated her at first sight. "What was the tall boy's name, the one with the haunted eyes?"

"You mean Edward?" Sister Agnes barked out in surprise. "But he's almost sixteen now, practically a man, and certainly past the age where good parenting would make a difference. I wouldn't even have him in the line-up but the trustees insist that all children have to be present and accounted for during a viewing." _Viewing_, she talked about the children as if they were nothing but cars and she a used car saleswoman! "You would get far more use out of one of the younger children, Mrs Cullen."

I looked at Carlisle then, my hand squeezing his until my knuckles whitened, and saw his eyes burn with the same rage that my heart did. He may have had his reservations about adopting a boy so close to our daughter's age, but he loved all children. Not just those apple-cheeked cherubs that society said we should adopt to make our lives easier.

"We do not want to adopt one of the younger children, Sister." He said quietly. "I believe it has been decided. My wife and I would like to take in Edward," He glanced at me furtively, "if he is willing to be part of our family of course. I wouldn't wish to force a boy his age to come with us if he would rather not. At fifteen he is certainly old enough to make some decisions himself."

I kept the unladylike peals of laughter from sounding through my mouth but my smile must have been broader than the Hudson River because Sister Agnes scowled at me until I was able to control it into something more suited to a politician's wife. My heart felt close to bursting I was so happy, and could not think of a single reason why Edward would not want to join our family.

Indeed between Carlisle's gentle nature and my thirst to spoil every last trace of sadness from his beautiful eyes, I strongly believed that we would make Edward the perfect parents. Even Isabella, Carlisle's daughter from his first marriage and mine in every way except birth, would love him. She had always wanted a sibling to care for and was the reason why we came to the orphanage in the first instance. Certainly she would be disappointed—Bella had always wanted a younger sibling to act as her own living doll—but I was certain that she would grow to love her elder brother.

We would be a perfect family, I had thought ten years ago in the holding room of the orphanage as I waited with my husband for Sister Agnes to bring our son to us, and for the most part it has been true.

We are a perfect family, just not in the way that I thought we would be.


	2. Chapter 1 Bella's Surprise

_Thank you to everyone who added my story to their alerts. I hope this part doesn't disappoint. I'm not used to writing long stories so I may be a little slow to upload but I have a clear picture in my mind about where I want this story to go. If you have any ideas or spot any mistakes (I don't have a beta) just let me know!_

_So on with the story. This part is from Bella's point of view. There is mature content in this part but nothing too graphic--but Bella does discover her sexuality. I wanted to make the story true to modern teenagers. I hope I've done a good enough job._

**Chapter One - Bella's Surprise**

I loved surprises.

I suppose it was because the first surprise that my Dad ever gave me, or the first surprise that I actually remember, turned out so brilliantly; my Mom. Not the scatty girl who ran off three weeks after giving birth to me because 'she couldn't handle the pressure of being a wife and mother' and whom I barely remember, but my _real_ mother.

I still remember the day my Dad called out for me in the nursery. I was four years old and wearing my favourite pink party dress and these little red sequinned shoes that my Nanny hated (she thought they were too girly and that the daughter of a Senatorial candidate should not conform to stereotypes) but I loved because they reminded me of the Wizard of Oz.

"What is it Daddy?" I asked breathless after I ran as fast as I could across the room and leaped into his arms. "Is it my birthday?"

"Your birthday is next month, Bub." He grinned as he pinched my nose and I giggled. "But you could say it's an early birthday surprise. Come with me and I'll show you. It's downstairs."

"What is it?" I asked excitedly as he carried me out of the nursery and down the spiral staircase that led into the foyer. We still lived at Cullen House then, the familial old-age mansion that sat on three hundred acres of Cullen land in Upper State New York, and the foyer was huge. I peeked around Dad's shoulder to look down onto the foyer but didn't see anything that could be my present, just a pretty woman with red hair who was looking at the hundreds of photographs (mostly of me) that Dad had put on display there. "Did you get me a pony?"

"No Bub I didn't get you a pony." He laughed when we finally reached the foyer and reached out for the pretty woman, taking her hand firmly in his. "Your present is much, _much_ better."

"Tell me," I begged and whined and did not notice the woman at all until she took me from Dad and cuddled me close to her chest. I had never been cuddled by a woman before (my Nanny wasn't allowed to and my grandmother didn't want to) and I looked up at her with a deep frown on my face.

"Are you my new Nanny?" I asked as if she were stupid, "because Nannies aren't allowed to hug little girls. It's in their contracts."

"Oh sweetie," Dad ruffled my hair and the woman looked inexplicably sad all of a sudden. "Esme's not your nanny; she's going to be your new Mommy."

And just like that surprises became something I looked forward to, something I wanted more than anything else in the world, something I _craved_. They did not come very often, my parents were not really the surprising type and tended to blurt things out as soon as they thought of them, but when they did they were pretty spectacular.

"You're going to get a surprise tomorrow, Bella." Mom said one day, completely out of the blue, when I was thirteen. We had just moved to Washington then to the restricting townhouse that Dad had bought after he had been put forward as his party's presidential candidate. It was tiny compared to Cullen House and had no land adjoining it except for a postage stamp sized front lawn and a back garden that was almost completely cemented over.

Used to roaming around for hours in the wild acres surrounding Cullen House, I found my new imprisonment in Washington stifling. And it was imprisonment. Dad wouldn't even let me go to school without an armed guard. I found the entire situation infuriating.

So when Mom said she had a 'surprise' for me I thought she was just trying to distract me from my temper, and so I pulled away from her as she brushed out my hair. It was long then and reached almost to my bottom in a riot of frizzy curls.

"You're lying!"

"Why would I lie to you?" Mom asked with a raised eyebrow. Ever the lady she never raised her voice and hated it when I did but never chastised me for it. Instead she just stared at me with her big brown eyes until I saw the error of my ways—and that time was no exception. I felt my cheeks flame with shame and hid my face in her chest as I cried. "Now, now, none of that; I won't have a daughter of mine weeping over a house no matter how pretty it is."

"But it's not fair." I sobbed bitterly into her pretty silk top. "I didn't want to move. I have friends in New York!"

"I know Bella," She kissed the top of my head and curled me onto her lap even though I was already half a foot taller than her. "And they can visit anytime you want, just let us know." When I didn't stop crying she stroked my hair. "I knew it was going to be hard for you and I told Carlisle…but it doesn't matter now. I'm going to fix it," She kissed my brow. "Tomorrow, just you wait and see. You'll get the biggest surprise of your life and it'll make everything better, I promise. Now go to bed and don't forget to tie up your hair. I want it nice and neat for tomorrow."

So I went to bed and woke up the next morning feeling wary and hopeful at the same time. On the one hand I had a pretty good track record with surprises but on the other I thought it was too good and that maybe I was due a disappointment. I lay in my bed in the midst of all of my stuffed toys wondering which it would be and ended up worrying so much that I got a headache.

--

Getting up with a pout I grabbed my favourite stuffed bear, put on my favourite Winnie the Pooh slippers, and reluctantly went downstairs to the kitchen. It was a cool day and the hair on the tops of my arms and thighs rose up almost vertically where the material of my thin nightshirt (an old rugby shirt of my Dad's from when he studied at Oxford) didn't reach. And Mom had made muffins if the rich tangy smell of fruit was any indication—my mouth salivated at the thought.

I loved Mom's muffins and thought that perhaps _they_ were my surprise and ran as fast as I could into the kitchen only to stop suddenly when I saw Mom and Dad sitting at the table with the most handsome boy I had ever seen.

It is strange how I remember everything and nothing about the first time I met my brother. For instance I remember that the sun was out and that it streamed into the kitchen from the French doors that opened out into the back garden, catching individual strands of his brown hair and turning them a brilliant fiery red. I remember that he was very thin and pale and that I could see the bluish veins on the backs of his hands and underneath his eyes. He had gorgeous eyes, the colour wavered between brown and black, and they ate up everything he looked at in the same way he ate Mom's muffins; like he was starving. When he looked at me his eyes _flashed _and I felt something melt in the pit of my stomach even as I felt terrified.

What I do not remember, however, is any of the conversation. I have no idea what my parents said to get me to sit down at the table, or if I said anything in reply. I do not even know who told me his name just that I suddenly knew it, like a math problem that I had struggled over for hours and abruptly understood. _Edward_. The name suited him and I spent the rest of breakfast in a daze until I went upstairs to my room and finally realised what his presence meant.

I had a brother. Not the little baby I had longed to dress up and play with ever since my parents married, but an honest to God elder brother. Edward was someone my Dad could take golfing when he played at those exclusive country clubs that didn't accept women or children, or my Mom could bring as a date to the charity functions that my Dad could not attend due to other commitments. He was older than me and much better looking and, I realised with a sudden sick dread, that he was my replacement.

"So what do you think of your surprise," Mom interrupted me from my thoughts later that morning with a soft smile. "Could Edward be the brother you've always dreamed of having?"

I wanted to tell her the truth but had no words to describe how I felt about Edward, or the knot of feeling that I got when Edward looked at me. My Princess Tam panties, the pair that I had worn with my nightshirt when I went downstairs, had _soaked_. I may not have been the smartest student but I knew enough to know that wetting yourself after your brother looked at you (and then, possibly, hating him afterwards) was not normal and certainly not something you could talk about with your Mom. So I did the only thing I could and lied.

"He's perfect, Mom." I forced a smile and reached across my bed to hug her tight, hiding my face against her stomach so that she couldn't see my tears. "Just perfect, it was the best surprise ever."

And just like that my love for surprises turned into hatred and I lost my innocence. Things would never be the same again. I knew that even as Mom cradled me and murmured all the ways that I could help my brother, Edward, feel more at home.

--


	3. Chapter 2 Realisation at First Sight

_Thank you all for the lovely comments, I really appreciated them. _

_This part was difficult for me to write because I have had to deal with a drug addiction and it brought back some painful memories. So I don't think this chapter is very good. I'm not quite sure that I will write another Edward POV piece for this story, or even if I want to keep writing long chapters. Suffice to say that any future chapters might simply be snap shots, I don't know. Let me know. If you like the longer chapters, or what to see a specific area of the story, please tell me. Otherwise I'll just have to go with my gut instinct._

_As stated this is an Edward POV. Please also note that for the purposes of this story Bella is taller than Edward (I imagine a taller Kristen Stewart if you're interested!) because I wanted to give her something to really feel insecure about, and kind of explain some of the clumsiness that might come to the fore later if I decide to continue the story._

**Chapter Two - Realisation at First Sight**

--

A lot of people say that love at first sight doesn't exist, that love is supposed to hit you gradually like waves against the shore and that anything else is just lust or obsession, and those people might be correct. I don't know. All I know is that the first time I saw Bella walk into the kitchen wearing that stupid rugby shirt was the first time I noticed a girl in my life.

Bella had been almost five foot eleven then, taller than any other girl I had ever seen and certainly taller than what I expected girls to be. Indeed the shirt, one of Carlisle's if the 'C Cullen' embossed on the breast pocket was any indication, barely reached the tops of her milky white thighs and I caught glimpses of hot pink lace as she moved to sit at the table. Her hair was a riot of uncombed brown-black curls that reached past her shoulders to bounce against the hem of her shirt, much like I imagined Medusa's would when the Sisters told us the stories of ancient Greece during our history lessons. But it was her smell, a mixture of sweat and freesias and something that was uniquely her, that had me entranced and before she even said her first word to me I was besotted.

"Well that's Bella," Esme had sighed after Bella left without saying one word. "I suppose I should have a chat with her, I'll be right back." I barely felt the pressure of her lips against my cheek as Esme, my mother I corrected in my head, went after the most beautiful girl I had ever seen and I was left in the kitchen with Carlisle. He looked very serious, his golden-brown eyes scrutinising me for a long moment, and I fidgeted in my seat all thoughts of breakfast (but not Bella) forgotten. I knew what he was about to say next.

"I'm not a drug addict anymore," I said before he could, my eyes fixed on my plate at the remains of my blueberry muffin, "I've been clean since I was fourteen. You can ask the nuns if you don't believe me."

It was true, mostly. I didn't count the slip-up two months before when one of the guys whose gang I used to run with before the orphanage arrived to try and re-recruit me. I had refused but not before shooting myself up with so much Dust that I couldn't think straight for weeks afterward.

"I do believe you." He reached out to squeeze my shoulder and my heart lurched. This was the point where most of the other adults (not parents, they never got this far not after they found out about the drugs) in my short life would have issued a warning but Carlisle just sighed. "Come to me if you think you might be tempted, okay? No matter what time of day it is, no matter how you feel; I want you to know that you aren't alone in this. Not any more."

Not knowing what else to say and not quite believing Carlisle I simply nodded. All of the reluctant hope that I had felt when Sister Agnes had told me that I was going to be adopted, all of the fluttering butterfly winged _realisation_ that Bella inspired in me as she walked into the kitchen, all of the heart-melting want that I felt when Esme insisted I call her 'Mom'; everything faded in comparison to the trust Carlisle showed in me that day.

I knew that I would never let him down.

--

I was at rehab when Carlisle, I could never quite call him Dad even though that is how I thought of him, won the election. I had been seventeen, almost eighteen, and was supposed to be studying for my AP Biology test in the glass enclosed library at the Priory Pacific Northwest but the doctors had decided to 'treat me' by giving me a highly contraband iphone with a live stream to CNN so that I could watch the post-election interviews.

"He'll be good for this country," One of the doctors said confidently as he pushed the iphone into the pocket of my sweatshirt. He was short and dumpy with a receding hairline and a 'Cullen for President' sticker on the collar of his white coat. "Best damn president we've had in years." And then he launched into a diatribe against Republicans and Conservatives and 'those green fairy liberals without an iota of common sense' until I had to walk away to keep my temper.

Contrary to what was expected of me as the son of a respectable politician turned president, I hated politics. Politics was the reason why so many things went wrong in the world. Droughts, poverty, rising gas prices, murder, rape, incest; study deep enough into any social problem and politics will inevitably rear its ugly head like a lion hiding behind an innocent lamb. Politics was the reason why my parents spent more time campaigning than they did with their own children, why I always felt second-best whether I got straight A's or the cover of GQ magazine ('Meet Edward Cullen,' the headlines read in some form or another, 'He may not be Carlisle's _real_ child like Bella is but he's hot so we love him anyway').

Politics was the reason why I returned down the slippery slope to heroin after being clean for almost a year because respectable politicians' sons do not have sick fantasies about their sisters, or if they do they certainly don't act on them.

I tapped the screen of the iphone when I got to my room and the video feed went straight to Carlisle and Esme as they celebrated with their supporters in New York City. Carlisle practically sparkled under the red white and blue spotlights of the arena as he talked animatedly about how he would bring hope to America, but I could see the truth in the pallor of his cheeks and the white knuckled grip he kept around Esme's hand. He was terrified and I couldn't blame him; although he had campaigned diligently nobody expected him to win least of all himself. 'I'm only thirty-six' he had told everyone who asked journalists and family alike, 'the best I can hope for is a near-miss so I can campaign next time.'

"So _Mr President_," The overly made up CNN interviewer simpered at Carlisle as she closed the interview her voice just rising above the cheers in the crowd, "How does it feel being the _youngest_ ever president in US history?"

"It will feel better tomorrow," Carlisle replied with a warm smile and I gulped knowing exactly what he was referring to even if the journalist didn't—the end of my six month rehab program and my self-imposed exile at the Priory. He looked genuinely hopeful as if nothing would make him happier (not even becoming the fucking president of the United States) than to see me again.

Unable to cope with the sudden raging guilt that roiled in the pit of my stomach, I tapped the iphone again and the video feed switched over to Harvard University and a bewildered looking Bella as she thanked the student body for their votes. She looked the epitome of student chic in a deep brown mini-dress over skinny jeans and flat gold ballet slippers, the outfit emphasising her lean almost masculine curves whilst minimising her height, and I chuckled as I set the iphone on my bed and curled around it.

God forbid that any of the adoring masses cheering at her every word would realise that their beloved Bella Cullen, the girl who had railroaded her way through political debates across eighty colleges in a single week and was credited in the video feed's voiceover as the reason why Carlisle won the student vote, was actually half-an-inch taller than me at six foot one. She was so fucking insecure.

My smile turned into a grimace when I realised that, insecure or not, I still thought she was the most beautiful girl in the world. I squeezed my eyes shut at the (not so surprising) realisation and kept them shut until the phone buzzed. Opening one of my eyes I nearly fell off my bed when I realised it was Bella's number.

"Beautiful Bella," I smiled even as tears flooded my eyes. "Beautiful, beautiful, Bella,"

The phone rang for three minutes before she gave up.

--


	4. Author's Note

Hi,

Just a quick author's note to say I haven't abandoned this story. I just have another one that is burning my brain to get out and so I am concentrating on that for a little while.

You will love this new story I promise. It's inspired by a certain historical romance and is quite possibly the most lyrical thing I have ever written. I will begin to post it when I have written most of the chapters.

Thanks, spacebongo


	5. Chapter 4 Please

**Apologies for the delay it was a long time coming. In the time it took for me to update I have gotten married and moved to another city. Sorry.**

Bella POV

I was at Harvard when Dad won the election. I was fifteen, almost sixteen, and had my hands wrapped around a steaming hot latte in an unmarked paper cup, gulping it down even though it was my sixth in as many hours and my heart was caffeinated enough to attempt to beat through my chest at any moment. I was terrified for Dad who had devoted his entire life to this very moment, scared for my mom who had effectively put her dreams on hold so that he could live his; hopeful because if the presidential race was about the ability to lead the USA then Dad had blown the competition out of the water at every stage of his campaign, and disappointed because although I had tried to support him to the best of my ability I could have prepared more for that last Harvard debate.

But that had not been my fault. I had been distracted over those last few months by Edward and although I tried not to think of him I could not help a slight bitterness towards my not-brother for his absence from what was quite possibly the most important moment of our family's lives. And to distract myself from my thoughts (of him) and to try and alleviate some of the stress of waiting I turned to the nearest Harvard Democrat next to me to strike up a conversation.

"I'm Mike Newton from Washington State," The handsome boy next to me smiled, his blue eyes warming easily as he looked at me. "I'm currently a senior, pre-law; been a democrat all my life." He boasted as he gestured to his 'Cullen for President' pin. "But I've never been this excited about a candidate in my life."

"That's only because I'm not old enough to campaign yet," I smirked flirtatiously. Politics was the reason why I lost Cullen House, why my parents spent more time campaigning than they did with their children, why I had been stuck in an empty house with a heroin-addicted brother who stared at me like I was his next fix; but I loved it. There was nothing I wanted more than to become a politician just like my Dad. "Just you wait Mike Newton from Washington State, when _I_ begin my campaign you won't be able to resist."

"I'm counting on it," Mike purred seductively his eyes roaming across my body and within a few minutes we were outside in the narrow alley that led from the fire-escape to the private car park, my seven hundred dollar J-Brand jeans shoved down around my ankles as Mike shoved hard into me from behind. It was my first time and so it hurt but the pain was good. The pain helped me to clear my mind and by the time Mike had softened enough to pull out it was as if I was a new woman. "You are so hot." Mike tongued my ear as he cupped me between my legs. "Come back to my apartment. I only live across campus."

"I can't," I whimpered as I pulled away from him long enough to pull up my jeans and panties. "Interviews."

"Perhaps we could meet up later then."

"I don't think so."

"Right." Mike forced a laugh. "I should probably get going too. I have…stuff to do too I guess. It's been a pleasure meeting you Bella." By the time I had turned he'd disappeared and I felt relieved. Within seconds the relief transformed into self-hatred when I thought of Edward's reaction to my losing it in the back of an alley to 'Mike from Washington State.' He had always wanted my first time to be something special with a guy I loved and who Carlisle and Esme loved. He would be so fucking furious when he found out and a part of me was glad. I wanted him to hurt every little bit as I had when he overdosed and so I called him on the iphone that Esme had snuck into his rehab centre on the off chance that they would allow him to use it. It rang fifteen times before it went to voicemail.

"It's me," I exhaled loudly and not knowing what else to say I told him the truth. "I love you." I wanted to say more but Dad's security detail finally found me and so I hung up with a whispered goodbye before I was whisked away into a media frenzy.

xxx

All of Edward's parties in the townhouse had two things in common: copious amounts of booze and copious amounts of drugs. And everyone in our social set at the exclusive private school that our parents sent us to loved them (and him) for it. I was never invited of course. Being Edward's baby sister I was just there as part of the furniture and nobody ever gave me a second glance except Edward and even then he had to be stoned to do it.

"You are fucking beautiful," He would whisper to me at the tail end of the parties when he had fresh track marks on his pale forearms and love bites on his neck. He always waited until the end because that was when there were the fewest sober witnesses and he sometimes punctuated his words with hard nipping kisses to my bottom lip or jaw. "Come to my room with me, please."

"You know I can't," I would whisper back trying my hardest not to melt into his arms because doing _it_ at fourteen with a drug addict who also happened to be your brother was the height of stupidity.

"_Please_," He would beg until I melted just enough to let him slide a hand up my skirt or top or on one occasion down the front of my jeans. And then just when I would think that I was ready for it (for him) he would stop. "I can't," He would growl as he pushed me away like it was my fault that we were attracted to each other. "You deserve better, you deserve it to be with someone you love. Someone who Carlisle and Esme loves,"

"I love you," I would say because I am and always have been a masochist when it comes to him. "Mom and Dad love you,"

"It's not the same," He would reply every time and every time I would say the same thing.

"Yes it is, you're just too fucked up to see it."

xxx

When Edward returned he looked nothing at all like he normally did. His hair was clipped short and parted neatly to the side, his shoulders were a little broader than before, and though all of the angles on his face were the same they were no longer as severe as they were before. Edward had put on weight, the dark smudges under his eyes had all but disappeared, and he looked both older and younger at the same time. Mom burst into tears when he walked into the Washington townhouse with three of the National Guard's best and cried so hard that Dad had to lead her into a private sitting room at the back of the house to compose herself before she exposed everything behind Edward's disappearance to the journalist who was sat with us for lunch.

"How was London?" I asked him when he finally lifted his eyes up to mine. Thanks to Dad's connections in London Edward's cover story was that he had studied at the Royal College of Music for half a semester with a prominent conductor while he decided whether he wanted to pursue college or a career with the London Philharmonic. The news had created quite the buzz within the entertainment industry and I could see the stupid journalist's eyes light up before a message on his phone distracted him.

"It was okay," He replied with a tentative half-smile that made my heart melt. "I prefer it here I think. Less rain." While the journalist was engrossed in his Blackberry I impulsively reached forward to peck him on the lips.

"I had a one night stand," I breathed against his skin and ignored how Edward's eyes darkened with rage when I touched his cheek with my fingertips. "He was fucking amazing."

Before Edward could reply Dad returned with an easy smile on his lips and a bottle of his favourite burgundy from the cellar for the journalist. He introduced Edward as proudly and as easily as if he had just returned from a semester abroad and before I knew it the three of us were settled around the table with small glasses of wine.

"So," The journalist simpered at Edward. "How was London?"

"Perfect," Edward replied with a dark look at me that I happily ignored in favour of my wineglass. "I have decided to move there permanently." When I choked on my wine at the news he turned to the journalist with a charming smile. "Playing with the Philharmonic has always been my dream."


End file.
